A Snarky Barber's Rough Day
by Inuyashagirl7692
Summary: Thomas is just minding his own business when a homophobic man walks into his hair salon. Of all the hair joints in all the world, why did he have to walk into his? Takes place after Changes, but before Cold Days
1. Chapter 1

It's been nearly a year since Harry… since my brother went missing. And rudely forgot most of his blood on my boat.

I just managed to get my job back as the handsome, French, and _flaming_ hair stylist. And I'll be damned if I lose it, because some homophobic bastard felt it was his sacred duty to come in here and tell me how gay I am!

"Sir, please calm down." I said plaintively, doing my best to get between him and my frightened female customers.

"I will not come down," he replied stupidly, mistakenly, drunkenly… Ah, how I loathe drunken stupid people. Almost as much as I loathe, well, me. Nah, just kidding. I don't hate them nearly that much, but I do hate them a lot.

"Sir, you are already on the ground. There is no need for you to come down. However, I would like you to calm down. We can talk about whom I choose to sleep with over some tea and cookies later. What do you say?" He blinked up at me for a few seconds, trying to process what I had actually said. I wonder if a gorilla has a higher IQ than this guy? There's no doubt in my mind that dolphins do, but this person is so similar to a gorilla (hairy, muscular, communicates with gestures and grunts) that I'd expect their IQ's to rank about even. Or maybe that's an insult to gorillas.

The burly man finally came up with a reply, "Are you propositioning me?"

Was it my French accent? Darn the language of love and all those French people with their sexy, easily misunderstood accents! Maybe I should write a letter that goes:

_Dear French people,_

_I just wanted to say thank you for the French fries, and French waffles, but your sexy accent combined with my exceptional good looks got me beaten up by a guy whose neck I could have snapped in .1 seconds, had I so wished. Just saying._

_Lots of love,_

_Toe-moss3_

Before I could say anything, the big brute grabbed me by my very expensive shirt, and lifted me about a foot off the ground. I'd be impressed if I wasn't a vampire and superior to him in every way.

He growled up at me, with his best Christian Bale Batman voice, "Don't think for a second that I would go on a date with you, fag." Ow! I think you hurt my feelings.

I put on my most glorious smile, and said, "Whew, good thing too. I hear bestiality is illegal in this state, and gorillas just aren't my type." Heh, good thing, I didn't say that out loud. He'd probably try to punch me then.

Pulling his arm back to punch me, I waited, barely breathing, for his hand to connect with my face… which would be like punching a statue made out of solid concrete for him. It's not that I was looking forward to it, it's that I was worried he might blow my cover. But I wouldn't try to dodge because… sometimes things are just worth it.

A sudden gasp swept through the entire store. The cashier even stopped her barely audible conversation with the police (the police should be here in about three minutes, by the way).

Someone had actually caught the guys' fist, preventing him from hitting me. That wasn't the amazing part, though. The amazing part was that he came out of nowhere. Or at least, that was amazing to everyone but me.

The new man sported the grizzled, slightly outdated look of a lost cowboy. With his long coat, blue jeans, and hat, he should have been walking into the middle of a saloon, not a posh hair styling place for women with too much time and money on their hands.

"Hey, let go of me you fucker!" The peanut brain yelled.

The cowboy presumably rolled his eyes, which were concealed behind sunglasses that totally clashed with the rest of his wardrobe (*sigh* I need to get out more).

"Now why would I do that?" The cowboy asked.

"So I can punch this… this-" He seemed lost for words. Maybe his brain had finally short-circuited.

"This innocent hair stylist? I've been watching for a while. The only thing he's done is mouth off, which is pretty mellow considering what he _could _do to you." Great.

"Or how about this, leave this place. Never come back. Or the police _and your wife_ find out exactly why you "hate" good-looking gay men so much. So much, that you go out of your way to find them" When he said this, his voice was like polished gravel or rough silk; menacingly low, yet gentle. Even I couldn't pull that off. Well, maybe if I tried.

Finally, the cowboy released the, suddenly very pale, man's fist. I watched the poor guy beat a hasty retreat, but made sure to yell after him, "Next time just ask me on a date like a normal person!" I was so busy grinning I almost missed the look of disapproval on my "savior's" face… Bah.

* * *

**A/N: What do you guys think?**


	2. Chapter 2

So, this would be my first time taking another man on a date. Now, I know what you're all thinking, but it isn't like that. I think. Well, I hope to God it isn't like that because – also contrary to popular belief – I'm not gay.

Not even a little.

Well, maybe a little.

And besides, Mr. Grizzled wasn't exactly making goo goo eyes at me. Actually, it seemed almost as though he was doing his best not to look me straight in the eye. Considering he knew what I was, I couldn't blame him. Hell, if my life were a game show, and sometimes it felt like one, I'd say, "Give the man a prize and a round of applause, folks."

Since the guy had just saved me from having to rip that other random guy into pieces and – more importantly- from almost losing my job, I decided to treat Mr. Mysterious to a Starbuck's coffee. It's the least someone as filthy and undeservedly rich as me can do. Literally.

Also, I really wanted to see a guy his size sitting in a barely there Starbuck's chair. Call it a guilty pleasure.

And as I watched him awkwardly spin his iced latte, which looked like a tall even though it was a grande thanks to his freakish size, it occurred to me that I needed to ask for a name so I could stop referring to him as insert-creepy-pet-name-here.

"So, my name is Thomas Raith. As you seem to know, I'm a vampire from the White Court. You could say I'm a half-vampire-"

"And you could say I'm a banana."

I blinked. "Do we know for a fact you aren't a banana, Mr…" I let the sentence trail, expecting him to give me his name. When that didn't work I just asked him what his name was. You know, like a normal person. Not like a life-force eating sex vampire.

The man, whose face was slightly squarer than my brother's, and whose shoulders were slightly broader was suddenly channeling his semi-autistic mannerisms. Then he mumbled, "It's Larry Resden."

Holy. Shit.

Only my brother can come up with an alias that bad. A quick glance at his right hand revealed the disillusionment ring he'd been using to conceal his appearance from me. Furious, I leapt out of my seat, just as Harry pointed over my shoulder, and urgently yelled for Mab to hit me with the forget-me stick.

"Quick, Mab! Hit him with the forget-me stick!"

And that's the last thing I remember.

….When I see him again, I'm gonna kill him.

* * *

A/N: A half vampire becomes a full vampire after their first kill, in case anyone's wondering why Dresden was skeptical.

Other plans for the ending include a POV chapter that shows Dresden flashing Thomas with the memory loss stick from MIB, or at least a magical charm that was created to resemble that device. After flashing him, Dresden tells Thomas to go home and have sex with Justine.

See? He's a good brother.


End file.
